


Reciprocation

by MaleficentorMagnificent (NattheBattz)



Category: The Good Doctor - Fandom
Genre: F/F, This could be read as platonic, but this is def pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NattheBattz/pseuds/MaleficentorMagnificent
Summary: Takes place after 3x10; some Redemptive Claire.
Relationships: Claire Browne&Morgan Reznick, Claire Browne/Morgan Reznick
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	Reciprocation

Claire sighs and shakes her head in mild disbelief at herself. She shifts her weight, the leather beneath her groaning under the movement. Her therapist watches all this with a curious grin. 

“Again, I’m sorry for calling you so late, I know your typical patients don’t do this.” Claire apologizes. 

“My typical patients don’t have jobs that require so much of their days. One doctor to another; I don’t mind the house calls if it helps you stay in a good mental space.” Her therapist replies with a small dismissive wave of her hand, her elbow propped on her crossed legs. Claire smiles at her words. “Now, was there anything specific that happened today that compelled you to reach out to me?” She asks, twisting her pen so that it’s ready to write. Claire tries to swallow the urge to clam up now that her words are going on record. 

“It’s not just one thing. Which is funny, because originally I thought it was. I thought I was depressed because my mother died, but I wasn’t really thinking about her very much today.” Claire frowns as she catches herself fiddling with her hands and forces herself to still. 

“What were you thinking about?” 

“How I must look to everyone. I saw Melendez this morning at the gym, and that was just as awkward as I predicted. And Park caught wind of last night, so he’s looking at me differently too. The worst part though, is how they’re all doubting who I am now. They’re looking at me like they don’t know me anymore...” Claire trails off, the reality and weight of her words settling somewhere unwelcome in her chest. She looks up at the sound of a pen scratching against paper, and can’t help but frown. 

“Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but you said, ‘they all’ instead of ‘they both’. I haven’t heard you mention your other colleague yet, the one who’s been aware of your mother’s passing. What was her name?” Her therapist asks with a tilt of her head as she tries to recall the other doctor’s name. She’s better with faces, but the name has been a recurring one in the few sessions she’s had with Claire. She thinks she remembers it right as Claire answers her.

“Ah yes, Dr. Reznick, wasn’t it?”

“Morgan.”

“Oh, okay, my mistake.”

“No, no, you’re right. Her name’s—“ Claire doesn’t know why she’s suddenly so flustered, but her cheeks are definitely too warm for her to not be blushing right now. She clears her throat and continues on, “Her name is Morgan Reznick. You weren’t wrong.” Claire clarifies. 

“Is Morgan a part of the collective ‘they’ in this instance?” Her therapist asks, and Claire doesn’t have time to unpack why she feels a twinge of jealousy at hearing the other woman’s first name from her lips. Nor does she even want to think about the near suffocating weight of the reality of the question. So she just nods instead. 

“And it bothers you that they’re looking at you differently because it makes you feel like you’re actually a different person? Or because you don’t want your recent decisions and behaviors to have affected them?” She asks, pen annoyingly poised to take note of Claire’s response. The words feel like a slap, and Claire briefly thinks that the random guy trying to get her to come over earlier would’ve said much nicer things to her, and for free to boot. She dismisses the thought, knowing that she made the right decision. 

“Both? I don’t know. Morgan keeps needling me, like she’s already accepted this as the new me even though she was...” Claire trails off once more, her eyes suddenly burning in the very specific manner that indicates she’s about to cry. She frowns at the realization, and bites her lip to reign herself in. 

“Even though she’s the one who was so persistent you not let your mother’s passing shape you?” She asks, trying to fill in the blanks herself. Claire looks up at her with a look of pure anger that genuinely shocks the woman across from her, but it’s gone in the next second. Then Claire has tears running down her cheeks, though she makes no move to wipe them away. She takes a deep shuddering breath before speaking. 

“She was trying to help me. And she was so up my ass; I was really annoyed by it at first. But then...” Claire takes another breath, preparing herself for her confession of sorts, not having said this to anyone. “Then I was having my breakdown in the stairwell, and I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I knew it couldn’t have been her, because her hand’s not that large, but I still hoped. I didn’t even think about it, I just hoped with everything in me that it would be her sitting behind me. I was dreading it too, because I knew that tears and public humiliation or not, she wouldn’t pass up the chance to tell me she told me so. But I still wanted it to be her. Then to hear her mocking me, and doubting me... I just feel like we’re back at square one of meeting each other, and like it’s my fault for disappointing her so much.” Claire answers, feeling both lighter and heavier at speaking these thoughts aloud. 

“People are disappointing in general, what matters is showing them that this was only a very minor hiccup. Maybe ask Morgan about how she’s doing, or if she’s got anything going on in her life right now. Not to sound presumptuous, but after reaching out to you several times, only to be rebuffed, it couldn’t hurt to be the one to reach out to her, could it? Show her that you’re still you, and that you appreciate her efforts to help you.” Her therapist offers, her thumb bouncing her pen against her finger. 

Claire feels struck dumb by the suggestion. She has no idea what Morgan has going on in her own life right now, because she hasn’t even thought to care enough to wonder, let alone ask. This realization is enough to have Claire analyzing their past interactions and she realizes with a small sinking feeling that she’s never tried very hard to be a shoulder for the other woman to lean on. Yeah, she’d spent the day with her after Tyler passed, but it’s not like that was because she wanted to be there for Morgan. The blonde doctor had uncharacteristically asked for her company, so she agreed, nothing more. Claire’s actually been a shit friend to the other woman now that she thinks about it. 

“If you’re not ready for that though, just keep it simple and ask her small things, how she’s doing, how she slept, or how her shift is going. Just little things to show her you care about her experiences as a mutual friend, but your main priority is taking care of yourself right now. You sound very eager to mend bridges and rectify things, but be wary of getting ahead of yourself. Focus on things one day at a time for now, yeah?” She asks with a smile, twisting her pen so that the ball-point retracts into the pen. Claire glances at the clock and is shocked to see an hour has passed already. She smiles back and stands with several new thoughts swirling through her mind as she shakes the other woman’s hand. 

The most forefront one being that she couldn’t wait to see Morgan tomorrow.

****

It’s 20 minutes until lunch, and Claire has yet to see the doctor in question. When she had asked Shaun if he knew her whereabouts he had only replied that he hadn’t seen her yet, but that she had already taken the file for their patient so she was most definitely in the hospital. Or someone stole his patient’s file, but he sincerely hoped that was not the case. She had checked the conference room, the on-call room, and the locker rooms, all to no avail. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the other woman was actively avoiding her. The elevator dings as she reaches her floor, and the steel doors open to reveal a disgruntled Morgan standing directly in front of her. Claire can’t keep the smile of disbelief off her face, though it falters when Morgan’s expression only seems to darken. 

“Morgan, I’ve been looking for you.” Claire says as she steps back to allow the other woman into the elevator. Morgan raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Well here I am. Aren’t you getting off?” Morgan asks with a tilt of her head. Claire flushes at the question. She’s only up here on the off chance she would run into the other woman since this is the floor where Morgan and Shaun’s patient is staying for now. 

“I’ve got time for a detour.” Claire replies, forcing her smile to remain. Morgan seems to hesitate at this news, and Claire wonders if she wasn’t being paranoid when she thought she’s being avoided. To her surprise, Morgan takes her offer and steps inside the elevator just as the doors begin to close. Claire grimaces to herself as she sees someone trying to get her to hold the elevator, and pretends she doesn’t, not wanting to share her time with the doctor next to her. She hopes this action doesn’t gain her anymore bad karma, but it’s too late to change her mind now. Morgan presses the button for the ground floor, and then they’re descending. The air in the elevator feels thick and heavy with something that Claire can’t quite name, and she wonders how long Morgan has been this tense around her without her noticing. She feels ashamed once more at realizing how self absorbed she’s been. She clears her throat not knowing what she wants to say, but wanting the silence to break immediately nonetheless. Morgan beats her to the punch. 

“Have you seen Dr. Glassman? I checked his office, but he wasn’t there.” Morgan asks, her tone somewhat reluctant. 

“No, why do you need to see him?” Claire asks curiously. 

“Because I need to consult with him on a patient.” Morgan quickly replies, and Claire knows there’s more to this than the other woman is letting on. What patient could she need to consult with the president of the hospital on after all?

“Shouldn’t you consult with Shaun on your patient?” Claire counters. She turns her head to look at the taller woman and catches her clenching her jaw. Morgan turns her own glare to rest on Claire, and her eyes roam over her face as if she’s looking for an answer there. She must not find it as her scowl returns in full force. 

“If I need help picking up random lonely men at bars, I’ll be sure to ask. Until then, can you keep all of your suggestions on how I handle _my_ business to yourself?” Morgan practically snarls, the venom in her voice taking up all of the space in the elevator. Claire blinks in surprise. She can’t believe that the woman glaring at her right now is the same one who took her to a drag show so that she could spread her mother’s ashes how she had wanted. She feels a pang in her chest as she realizes how much damage her actions have actually caused to the person who deserved it the least. Before she can speak, the elevator stops on the third floor where two men step into the elevator, nodding politely at them as they do so. Claire’s not sure if the two men can feel the tension in the air, but their silence seems awfully coincidental. Morgan’s eyes stay decidedly fixed on the doors ahead of her, and Claire wants to shove the men out of the elevator on the second floor, but of course that’s not a real option, no matter how tempting. When the doors open to the ground floor, the men stay against the walls and gesture for them to exit first. Morgan doesn’t hesitate as she strides forward and out of the small space with a huff. Claire scrambles after her, throwing a quick “Thank you” over her shoulder.  
“Morgan, will you please wait?” Claire asks, reaching out to grab the other woman’s hand to still her. The result is immediate as well as unexpected. Morgan snatches her hand out of Claire’s grasp as if it physically burns her, and turns on her heel so fast Claire almost runs into her. 

“ _What_ do you want, Claire?” Morgan asks, her tone just as harsh and steely as her eyes glaring down at her. Claire opens her mouth to say something, anything, but Morgan’s rubbing at her hand like she’s nervous rather than angry and alarms are going off in Claire’s head. She’s just too shocked to decipher them right now, and Morgan isn’t a patient woman on her best days. “If you just wanted to waste my time, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.” She snaps, and is about to turn around when her eyes dart to somewhere over Claire’s left shoulder. She sighs in relief and steps around the silent woman to catch up to Dr. Glassman whom just rounded the corner of a hallway. 

Claire takes a moment to collect her thoughts, ignoring the people giving her sideways glances either for her standing in the middle of a high-traffic walkway, or because they overheard Morgan’s raised voice directed toward her. Claire wants to follow the other doctor to see if she can learn anything, but she knows it’s the wrong thing to do. Just as she takes a step to go along with the idea anyway, her (new) phone— Claire cringes at how much it cost to replace her old one— chimes, a page calling her back to her own patient. Following Morgan and lunch would apparently just have to wait for now, Claire thinks to herself as she presses the call button for the elevator once more.

****

Claire shivers against the cool air that’s leeching her body heat from her very bones. Her breath forms a small cloud in front of her face, she looks down at the flowers in her hands, and feels ridiculous for the tenth time in the past five minutes. She reaches up and rings the doorbell, and has to fight the urge to hold her breath. She thinks of how seemingly angry the other woman had been with her earlier, and wonders if this is the worst idea she’s ever had. She contemplates running away back to her car, and pretending like she didn’t go get flowers after calling in favors with the hospital staff to find out where Morgan lives, upon learning that she’d assisted in a successful surgery today. But there’s two overnight shifts that she has to work now that would make that rather difficult. Before Claire can commit to being a coward, the door’s locks audibly move and the door is pulled back by a pajama clad Morgan. A gun-wielding, pajama clad Morgan, Claire’s mind amends, seeing the small weapon in her hand resting against her thigh. 

“Do you always answer the door with a gun?” Claire asks, her fingers nervously flexing around the stems of her flowers as she tries to dispel her unease at seeing the potential weapon. Morgan’s expression remains impassive. 

“Only when I’m not expecting anyone in the middle of the night. Do you always show up to doors uninvited with flowers?” Morgan counters with an unamused quirk of her eyebrow. Claire flushes. 

“Only when I’m showing up uninvited to congratulate you on a job well done.” Claire replies with a small smile, holding the flowers out to the other woman. Morgan takes them and as her fingers brush against Claire’s she flinches at how cold her hand is. Claire finds that odd seeing as she’s the one who’s been standing outside in the freezing temperature. She decides not to comment on that just yet though. 

“And what ‘job well done’ are you congratulating me for?” She asks, smelling the flowers as she does so. Claire huffs and wraps her arms around herself to try and stave off the cold. 

“I heard you assisted in a surgery, and that it went well.” Claire replies with a small shrug. Morgan hums. 

“These would have been more appropriate for my first lead surgery, don’t you think? And, you know what? If I’m going for ‘appropriate,’ aren’t bottles of wine more common as gifts between colleagues?” Morgan asks with the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips, like she finds this entire situation humorous. Claire shivers against the cold as she contemplates what she wants to say. 

“Yeah, but my head was a little too far up my ass for me to get you flowers for that, and I thought about wine, but I’m trying to stay away from alcohol for a while.” Claire answers honestly, frowning at how different her life is from a few weeks ago. 

“Hmm, and how far up your ass is your head now?” Morgan asks, and Claire can hear the subtle shift in her voice. The question may be phrased as a jest, but it’s anything but. 

“I’d like to say it’s completely removed and back atop my shoulders.” Claire replies with a small nod. Morgan’s lips turn down in a frown, as her eyes roam over Claire’s face like they had done earlier that day. Claire doesn’t know if she sees something that wasn’t there before, or if Morgan is just tired of torturing her, but she has to fight an audible squeal when the taller woman steps back and invites her inside. She follows her off to the right and finds them standing in the kitchen. It’s clean and contemporary, and exactly what Claire would have guessed the other woman’s kitchen to look like. Except the medium-sized bowl of ice water sitting on the counter. 

“What are you blanching?” Claire asks curiously as she rubs her hands together, encouraging her blood flow to return. Morgan’s eyes snap to the bowl and she sets down her gun and flowers on the counter next to it, so she can grab it and pour it out.

“Nothing.” Morgan answers tersely, without elaborating, leaving Claire wondering what the bowl was for. She debates pushing the issue, but knows that Morgan is more likely to tell her to leave than to answer her questions. “I told myself that keeping this vase was a waste, but look at you, proving me wrong.” Morgan says in a conversational manner, her own way of apologizing for being curt. Claire smiles to herself at the fact that not everything about Morgan has changed. She watches as the taller woman fills the vase with water from her water dispenser near the fridge, her hands seeming to shake throughout the task. “Now that I can actually see them, they’re beautiful, thank you.” Morgan admits with a friendly, if not tired smile as she sets the flowers into the vase, arranging the blue ones so that they’re surrounded by the taller white ones.

“Of course, I just wanted to... well there’s a lot I want to say actually, but I want to start with, ‘I’m sorry’. You were right there with me from the start, even though I kept pushing you away, and I’ve never really had that before. I’ve also never spiraled out quite like that, and I’m sorry you saw me like that. This is me trying to ‘get my crap together’.” Claire admits, tilting her head forward as she references what Morgan told her. Morgan groans, letting a soft smile cross her own lips. 

“God, I really planned on saying ‘shit,’ but I guess my work filter was still on. I felt silly in the moment, but calling attention to it would’ve only made it so much worse.” Morgan confesses with a shake of her head. Claire lets her own smile grow at the news, finding it situationally funny that the same words that echoed through her head and haunted her were doing the same to the woman who uttered them, even if it was for vastly different reasons. She’s about to say as much when Morgan starts absentmindedly rubbing at her hands. It’s the motion that draws her eyes, but when she looks at them she hears the same alarms in her head that she had earlier at the hospital. She forces herself to analyze what she’s looking at, and she thinks Morgan’s fingers seem swollen from their normal size, but it’s hard to tell from where she’s standing. What’s more obvious though, is the red discoloration around her fingers and knuckles, and Claire remembers how cold her hand had been, and the... 

“What’s wrong with your hands?” Claire asks, her smile dropping off her face almost as fast as Morgan’s does at the inquiry. She stops rubbing them and holds them stiffly at her sides, away from Claire’s prying eyes. 

“Nothing. What are you talking about?” Morgan asks, and Claire knows the other woman is lying. She contemplates leaving the issue be, since Morgan so obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. But she remembers how outright annoying Morgan had been with her during her own time of self-isolation and destruction, and she knows that if the tables were turned, Morgan wouldn’t let this go. 

“You were icing your hands.” Claire says it, and she knows it’s true as Morgan’s expression grows dark. She hadn’t connected the dots at first, and without seeing the bowl earlier, she might have missed it. However, if Claire thought the elevator had been tense, it was nothing compared to the weight that’s settled over the kitchen. Morgan stands so tensely that Claire is worried she might just shatter and break into thousands of shards, and scatter across the floor between them. 

“Don’t you have some unknown man to go crawl under?” Morgan asks, her voice dripping venom, and Claire expects the words to hurt as they have been, but knowing that the other woman is only desperately lashing out makes them duller. 

“Not tonight. Now are you going to tell me? Or should I go wake up Dr. Glassman and demand he tell me, since I have to assume he knows about whatever’s going on.” Claire challenges, and Morgan Reznick cornered is not a sight she’s used to, and for some reason, it’s not nearly as satisfying as Claire would have once imagined it to be. Morgan’s head drops so that she’s looking at the ground, and Claire’s moving forward before she can think to stop herself. She wraps her arms around the taller woman’s torso, and Morgan’s stiff in her arms for several moments before she reluctantly wraps her own arms around Claire’s shoulders. “What is it?” Claire asks once more, her voice muffled to her own ears, with one being pressed against Morgan’s chest. She feels rather than hears Morgan taking a deep breath as her arms slightly flex around her. 

“If you tell anyone Claire, so help me, I will ruin your life. Are we clear?” Morgan threatens, and it scares Claire more than anything to hear the underlying trembles of fear in the other woman’s voice. She doesn’t trust her own voice to not betray her worries, so she nods in response. “Only Dr. Glassman and my physician know, so if you tell a single soul, I will find out.” Morgan needlessly warns once more before taking another deep breath to steel her nerves. “I have rheumatoid arthritis.” Morgan exhales, like saying the words takes every ounce of effort she possesses. And Claire gets it, because as soon as the words register in her head, the world suddenly seems off balance. She doesn’t mean to tense, but knows she did when she has to force herself to relax against the other woman once more. 

“How long—“ 

“I was diagnosed a few weeks ago, a little before my first surgery actually. And... and fucking Andrews wanted to give me an opportunity to shine with that carotid endarterectomy. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted really, but I knew I couldn’t do it with the pain. So I went to Dr. Glassman for a shot to help manage the pain.” Morgan explains, and she sounds so tired as she speaks that Claire wonders how she’s been doing it all on her own. 

“Go ahead, say it.” Morgan says, her anger coming back into her voice. Claire pulls back so she can see the other woman’s face, and is shocked to see tears in her eyes. 

“Say what?” Claire asks, genuinely curious as to what she could say in light of this news. Morgan rolls her eyes so hard Claire wonders if they’ll get stuck for a moment. 

“That I should just quit now, because I can’t be a great surgeon for long, so what’s the point?” Morgan replies angrily, and Claire feels her jaw drop. 

“I’m not thinking that at all, Morgan! Honestly, I was just wondering how managed the pain could be if you’re still having to ice before you go to bed.” Claire says, shocked that Morgan would think she’d say those things to her. 

“I haven’t killed anyone yet, so if all I have to do is ice my hands for a little while to keep saving lives and proving myself as a surgeon, I’m okay with that.” Morgan snaps defensively. Claire doesn’t know why she does it, or where the thought even comes from, but she brings her right hand up to cup Morgan’s face. The taller woman tenses up along with the desired effect of shutting the fuck up. 

“I am only worried about you, and the pain you’re in. I’m not doubting you as a brilliant surgeon, or an incredibly strong woman. I’m asking these things as a friend, Morgan. Aren’t we friends?” Claire asks, the thought just occurring to her. Were they friends, or had she burned that small bridge already? 

“Bold assumption, I’m in the habit of actually liking my friends, you know?” Morgan questions rather than answering, and Claire frowns at the response. 

“You at least almost like me.” Claire argues, not willing to accept defeat yet. 

“Then I guess we’re at least almost friends.” Morgan concedes with a small quirk of her lips. Claire smiles at the admission. 

“How can I help?” Claire asks, and is about to withdraw her hand from the other woman’s face until she feels Morgan lean into her palm and sigh. 

“Please don’t be offended when I say that I think you’re a little too fresh off your own issues to start dealing with mine too.” Morgan replies, and Claire nods her head in agreement. 

“I’m not trying to, I just want to know how I can help you right now. I know I was fucking up a lot, but you— and please don’t make me regret saying this— but you were right. All of that wasn’t who I am, and I don’t want to be that woman that everyone knows me as now. But I want to be a better friend for you, because up to this point I’ve been a pretty shitty one.” Claire explains, shame burning across her cheeks as she admits her faults in front of the woman who never wastes an opportunity to point them out. Morgan smiles at her so genuinely that Claire can’t help but mirror her, so that they’re both standing near the kitchen sink just smiling at each other. 

“Honestly, just this talk was enough for now. It’s... nice to be able to talk to someone about it. I’ve... I’m glad you’re getting better.” Morgan settles on saying, her cheeks coloring due to her struggle to find the right words. 

“Me too.” Claire agrees, and after a few more moments, she realizes that she’s still standing entirely too close to the other woman, with her hand still cupping her cheek. Claire steps away and brings her hands to rest behind her back, realizes how stupid that is and clasps then in front of herself. She knows she’s successfully embarrassed herself when Morgan rolls her eyes at her once more. 

“I’ll just.” Claire mumbles, hitching her thumb over her shoulder toward the front door as she steps back to make her way out. Morgan bites back a smile at Claire’s awkwardness, finding it a breath of fresh air compared to the woman she’s been lately. “Let me know if you need anything.” She says as she steps outside, instantly shivering and wrapping her arms around herself as the night air hits her. 

“Will do, and Claire?” Morgan prompts, waiting for the other woman to meet her eyes before continuing, “Thank you, for coming by tonight. And for the flowers.” She thanks with a gentle smile that Claire doesn’t think she’s seen on Morgan’s face before. 

“You deserve it, plus it’s kind of the least I can do.” Claire reassures with a small smile of her own. She can’t remember the last time she’s smiled so much. “Goodnight Morgan.” Claire says just as she shivers again. 

“Goodnight, now go home before you get sick.” Morgan replies waiting for Claire to make it inside her car before closing the door. 

Claire locks her doors and starts her car, but waits a moment before driving off. She sits there thinking of how far she and Morgan Reznick have come in their relationship. She feels lighter than she has in weeks, and she knows it has to do with the blonde doctor seemingly forgiving her for the time being. She tries not to over analyze that as she puts her car in gear and pulls away, scared of what the future may bring, but confident that she and Morgan are heading in the right direction.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to see Morgan cared for. Sue me.


End file.
